


Psychopath

by Dryad



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Dubious Consent, Implied Consent, M/M, NC17, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 17:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2781671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It could be a trap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Psychopath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clocketpatch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocketpatch/gifts).



> Please note this fic may be triggering.

Avon sat on the white sofa on the bridge and propped his chin on his hand. The view screen was off, but that was alright, he wasn't paying attention to it anyway. He had a problem, and that problem was bound to come into this room sooner rather than later. Cally would undoubtedly want to give him advice…which was why he hadn't told her. 

Roj Blake was clearly a psychopath.

He could relate, having been called a psychopath himself more than once in the intervening years. The funny thing was, Blake didn't even bother to conceal it, yet everyone just sort of…ignored it. Or maybe they didn't notice? It was hard to tell, sometimes. Perhaps because Blake was fighting for freedom from the Federation, his foibles were passed off as quirks of human nature. Avon couldn't quite comprehend ignoring someone's essential being, especially when they were so bold about it.

"You look deep in thought."

Avon raised an eyebrow, glanced at Vila. "One of us has to be."

"Ha bloody ha," answered Vila, sitting next to Avon. "What are you thinking about, anyway? How to scupper us all and take Liberator into the great black?"

"Yes, my every waking moment is devoted to getting Liberator to myself and conquering the known galaxy."

"You could set yourself up as the New Federation," Vila gazed into the distance and spread his hands apart. "Your motto could be 'Everyone for themselves'."

Avon huffed something close to a laugh. "I couldn't be bothered, Vila. Too much like hard work."

"Good point. This is hard enough work as it is."

"You don't consider thievery hard work?" asked Avon, a little curious.

Vila pondered for a moment. "Well, you have to learn the trade, of course. But the rewards outweigh the difficulties."

There were footsteps behind Avon, and the very man he had been pondering stepped around the command couch. 

"Vila, go help Cally with those safes. I want them opened before we reach Bright Nine."

"Bright Nine!" protested Vila, getting to his feet again. "That place is filled with thieves and criminals!"

"Then you'll feel right at home," said Blake, crossing his arms.

"Home was never like that," muttered Vila as he walked away.

Avon looked at Blake, who was looking down at him with a peculiar glint in his eye. "Problem?"

"Come with me."

Blake led, Avon followed. They were halfway to the hold when Blake turned and shoved Avon up hard against the wall. Avon bared his teeth, opened his hands in mock surrender. His heartbeat sped up as Blake pressed closer, shoving his thigh between Avon's legs. So that's how it was going to be. "Don't I even get dinner?" he quipped, trying not to let his voice break as Blake palmed his arse. 

"You'll get whatever I give you," grunted Blake, starting a hard roll with his hips.

Judging by the hardness against his leg, Avon guessed Blake had been giving this some thought for quite a while. Damned tunics were far too long. If he had had an inkling, he might have avoided Blake for awhile, or until they reached Bright Nine, or at least made sure one of the others was in the same room/made sure he was never alone with Blake. Funny, that though he was the most observant one of all of them, Blake had still caught him by surprise. _Ha bloody ha_ , as Vila had said.

"What's the matter?"

Avon shook his head, leaning away from Blake as much as he could. He wanted this over as quickly as possible. Even as he thought it, he could feel himself respond to the friction. He closed his eyes, however, that made everything worse. Blake was breathing heavily into his ear, the cinnamint wash of his breath sneaking under Avon's collar and down his shirt, giving him the queerest little thrill down his back. He shivered hard, which just egged Blake on. 

If matters were different, he might put his hands on Blake's shoulders, or on his hips, pull him closer, ride his oncoming orgasm out with gratitude and affection instead of wary release. Instead, he kept his hands where they were, firmly against the wall. He tried to be aware of someone coming down the corridor, though that was doubtful given that Vila was helping Cally and, hopefully, Jenna. Blake cursed - oh, he _had_ been on edge, hadn't he? With luck, this would be it, this would be all - Blake grunted softly, jerking against Avon a couple of times. "Better?" Avon asked, hating the breathlessness in his own voice.

Blake eased back, still too close for Avon's comfort. He met Avon's glare with amusement. "Not to your liking, Avon?"

"I still would have preferred dinner first. Julian's of Tarvydas, the most expensive items on the menu."

"You're worth all that, are you?"

"And more," answered Avon.

"Yes," said Blake, moving his hands from Avon's arse to undo his belt. He slid his hands underneath Avon's loosened tunic, unsealed his trousers to dip into Avon's undergarments. He leaned in closer to whisper, "All that and much, so much more."

Avon hissed as he inhaled, Blake's hands rough at first, then gentling as he stroked. He didn't want to listen, but Blake was right there, not shutting up.

"You're good, Avon, really very good, best computer programmer I've ever met - "

He lost track of what Blake was saying as the haze of pleasure began to coalesce into something solid in the pit of his pelvis. He rocked into Blake's palm, shuddered as fingers swept over the head of his cock.

" - half-naked when we met, do you remember? I noticed immediately. I wanted to take you then and there - "

"Liar!" Avon gasped. Blake's grip tightened almost to the point of pain. He kept on stroking, kept babbling and oh Avon didn't care, no he didn't, he didn't oh - oh - oh! He curled over Blake's arm, weak from the strength of the orgasm that rocketed through him. He pushed Blake away sooner than he would have liked in normal circumstances. That was just the point, though; these weren't normal circumstances. Falling back against the wall to refasten his clothing, he opened eyes he hadn't even realized he had closed. Blake stood there, watching him closely. Avon hated it. Hated him.

"All better now?" asked Blake.

"There was nothing wrong with me in the first place."

"Oh, we know rather better than that, don't we," commented Blake, turning his back on Avon to continue down the hall, as if nothing at all had happened. "Why don't go find Vila. I'm sure the others could use your computer expertise."

Not before he changed. Wincing at the feel of his clammy undergarments, Avon went to his quarters and threw his outfit into the recycler. The red had been good while it lasted, now he wanted all black, to match his mood. He had just changed into a clean shirt when the door chirped. Pressing the comm, he said, "Yes?"

"It's me, Cally. Can I come in?"

He stepped back from the door as it slid open. "And what can I do for you, Cally."

"I think - are you alright?"

Avon turned to grab his clean overblouse and tunic. He put them on before answering. "I'm fine."

And then, because he wanted to know, wanted to ferret out any further weakness that could be used against him. "Why?"

She shook her head, frowned. "I don't know…you seem…off, somehow."

"My perpetual state of being."

Cally made no reply. She made no sound at all, not a _tsk_ , not a _hmm_ , nothing to indicate she didn't believe him, and yet her disbelief was plain to see in the set of her brow, the quirk of her lips, the one raised eyebrow. In this instance she didn't believe a word of what he said, and she knew he knew she knew.

"It's nothing, Cally. I can handle it."

"Mm, sounds awfully personal for you."

"It is, and it isn't," he said, turning back to face her while he sealed his tunic at the sides. He knew he looked dangerous. That was the persona, and he tried to live up to it. Most of the time he felt he succeeded. At least with the people he knew from After, and some of the ones from Before.

"Avon, if you're having trouble with someone aboard Liberator - " Cally stopped, made a sound of frustration.

"There's nothing to be done about it, Cally," he said, putting one hand on her shoulder. He leaned towards her a little. "I'm afraid I'll just have to live with it."

She glanced at him sharply. "That's hardly fair."

"Life isn't fair," he sat down on the bed to put on his boots. "Are you done with the safes?"

"Oh, that. Yes," quick as a flash she sat next to him. "Avon, I'm serious. If something can be done, why not do it?"

He chuckled. "I seriously doubt you would appreciate it if I did."

"How will you know unless you try?"

Abruptly he tired of her earnestness. He stood, looked in the mirror, adjusted the lay of his belt. "The point is moot. And no," he said to her reflection. "There will be no further discussion."

"But - "

"I said no!" Cally's mouth pursed, and he knew she was bound to bring it up again at some time or another. "It's fine. Nothing I can't handle," and the day he decided it was too much, well, then there would have to be a reckoning all around. 

"Let's go see what damage Vila has done. And tell me," he said, holding up one hand. "What was it you came here for in the first place?"

"Ah, that," she folded her arms and looked down at her toes. "Can we just leave it at 'Vila needs your help?'"

By which she meant she had felt or heard his apprehension.

"I can't get anything past you, Cally."

She had the grace to flush. "I could hear you."

"It's fine," he repeated, putting both hands on her shoulder this time. After a second he drew her close, allowed himself the pleasure of her concern, her warmth. There were times he thought that maybe he should convince her to stay with him - or was that the other way around? Closing his eyes, he inhaled her slightly woody scent deeply, reminding himself that she was the one good thing he had (that was not himself). She was reliable, and pretty, and did him the honor of staying in his bed from time to time.

"Avon," she began, drawing back a little to look him in the eyes. "Is there anything I can do?"

He shook his head again. "No. I don't want you involved," he said, kissing her forehead. "Now come on, let's find out exactly what sort of damage Vila has done."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! It was great fun to revisit a show I've loved since I was a kid.
> 
> Kerr Avon 4eva!


End file.
